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Pa’s Story
Pa Ironwill, reaching old age, sat with his child and grandchild in his home in Zarl. He was a happy old man, a long white beard, yet if you looked he was scarred from battle. His real name is barely ever said, and has barely been used since his days as a warrior for the army. “Pa?” His young Granchild, Gromrik asked him, barely half his height. “Yes, Gromrik?” The kindly Old Dwarf replied. They were sitting by a hearth, and Pa was reclining in his favorite chair. “How did you get that big line on your hand?” The little Gromrik said. “Are you sure you want to know, beardling? It is hard Story, maybe to grim for you.” Pa said, and Gromrik response was eager nodding. “Well, it all started back in my army days, I was defending Zarl from the Orc horde of Horngore the wrecker.” The Tale It’s was a cold day on the battlefield. Borgin, axe in hand, stood in the center of a hill surrounded by the towns warriors. A green tide approached, and they readied there cannons. The Orcs were unorganized, charging in randomly. “Remember Dwarfs, they have five fingers. We have a fist! Hold together!” Borgin commanded. One by one the Dwarfs pulled out there massive shields and linked them together, each pushing there Spears through the slot, forming a wall. “Want to live forever!?! Khazak-Kan Hike! Want to live forever!?! Khazak-Kan Hike!” This was departed throughout the lines, the commander starting and the men. Finishing. They pumped themselves into a rage remembering the wrongs of the Orcs. The Green tide continued marching. Arrows began flying from it, but they bent or broke against dwarf shields. Borgin surveyed the field, watching the battle begin. A arrow shot a inch from his arm, and hit the leg of the Dwarf behind him. II shattered again his armor. “These arrows are weak as a Gruntelgis bones!” The Dwarf said. It caused much laughter, Dwarfs love a good insult to the Elfs. But this was quick as they needed to look back to the battlefield. “I’m going in!” Borgin took up his shield and axe, and ran to the battlefield. A scream met him, and a Orc charged. He blunted it on his shield, twisted and stabbed it in the back. Borgin saw a Orc shaman approach on a wyvern. Terror spread through the ranks, but they didn’t flinch in there duty. Borgin himself could not deny the fear he felt. “It was one of the scariest moments of my life, cause that’s Shaman cast a spell and blew up the Dwarfs next to me! I thought I was next...” he told his grandchildren. And that was true. His comrades in arms got destroyed by the lightning but by luck he survived. A whiz zoomed though the sky. A cannon ball hit the wyvern, its head snapped back, the Shaman screamed. Lightning arced across the field, then the wyvern fell. It well directly on some Orc troops, erecting great cheers from the Dwarfs. The warlord screamed in anger. He growled out a battle cry and the Orc horde continued advancing. “Fight or iz gunna do ya in!” Horngore cried. Borgin held his axe high and brought it down, slicing the Orc in front of him in half. He ducked a blow from the next Orc, and sliced up, side, gutting him. With his shield in front of him, he moved forward to Horngore. He saw a grisly sight, Horngore brought a spiked mace down on a Dwarfs head. Bloody mist surrounded Horngore. Borgin stepped forward. “Come at me, greenskin beast!” Horngore turned and charged, twin axes hungering fro blood. Borgin blunted the charge apon his shield, twisted to the side and cut the Orcs knee. The Orc grasped for his knee which was bleeding profusely, and as he bent to do so he was cut on the hand by Borgins axe. Horngore, with his other hand, he swung at the now exposed Dwarf. Borgin blocked it with his axes hilt, but now the Orc was back up again, and swung wildly. While blocking a blow, Borgin felt a sharp pain in his hand. Horngore had sliced through it, causing a scream of pain. But this did not stop Borgin. When Horngore charged again Borgin ducked and tripped him with his shield. With a twist and a yell, Borgin slammed his axe into the Orcs expose back, the Orc gave one final gutty scream and died. Quickly, Borgin jumped on his back and sliced off his head, holding it up. The other Orcs cowered in fear, and began to fight amongst themselves to find a new leader. The Dwarfs took advantage of this, and fought yet harder. Eventually, the day was won. Borgin was a hero of the battle. Our Tale Ends “You really did that Pa?” Little Gromrik asked. “Indeed I did.” Replied Borgin. Dorri modded at him with approval. “I want to be like you when I grow up Pa!” Gromrik said. Borgin modded. “Maybe you will be, beardling. Maybe you will be.” Category:Short Story Category:Fantasy Category:Scotchland Category:Dwarf